


Shall I stay (would it be a sin?)

by seaoflaurel



Category: The Aeneid - Virgil, The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Aeneid - Freeform, Aeneid AU, Ciri is Anna, Geralt is Aeneas, Getting Together, How Do I Tag, I would like to apologize to my teacher for this, Jaskier is Dido, Love Confessions, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sharing Body Heat, The Witcher - Freeform, that doesn't really make sense with canon but she's the best fit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 06:00:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23346571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seaoflaurel/pseuds/seaoflaurel
Summary: A retelling of Vergil's AeneidGeralt washes up on the shore of Jaskier's city, Jaskier is not sure what to make of this but ends up falling desperately in love anyway.“I love the way you just sit in the corner and brood,” Jaskier said, attempting to lift the scowl off his guest’s face. His remark was unfortunately not met with the desired reaction, as Geralt only tilted his face away from Jaskier and grunted.“You know, stranger, I thought sitting next to you would be more exciting and filled with adventurous stories.” Geralt grunted dismissively again, and Jaskier was already preparing himself to talk the entirety of the remaining dinner.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Kudos: 4





	1. Some Things Are Meant To Be

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I know how insane this seems, but I was struck by the intense need to write this after studying for my Latin test
> 
> A quick summary: the Aeneid is an ancient Roman story written by Vergil for emperor August. It details the flight of the main character Aeneas from his home city of Troy as the Greeks invade and destroy it. He gets to escape the massacre because the gods have a mission for him: he is to found a city in Italy, one that will be greater than any city has ever been and will ever be. This is, of course, Rome. On his way to Italy with his men, they encounter a storm sent by Juno/Hera and end up on the shore of Carthage, the city of Dido. Dido is also a refugee, driven from her homeland by her evil brother, and when Aeneas tells his story, Dido falls madly in love with him. Aeneas stays in Carthage to regain strength and has an affair with Dido. After a while, the gods remind him of his mission and he resumes his search, leaving Dido behind in the process. She does not take this well and she curses Aeneas and all of his descendants and then takes her own life. Aeneas proceeds to go to Italy, goes to the Underworld to visit some old friends, meets Dido there as well but she's too angry with him to speak with him. Aeneas does try to explain himself but there's nothing that can appease her. He goes back to the world of the living, finds the place of his future city, wins a war and is finally allowed to build his city.
> 
> As I am doing a retelling of the story, I will change it to fit my intentions.  
> *No* Major Character Death or Major Character Injury
> 
> I would, again, like to apologise to my Latin teacher for writing this.  
> Title is from Can't Help Falling In Love by Elvis Presley, which is weirdly fitting for this story

Jaskier had seriously underestimated how much effort would actually go into being the king of a city still under construction, so when one of his subjects came to him with a (might he add, criminally handsome) castaway they’d found on the shore, he had to admit he panicked a little. He barely had time to get dressed these days. Still, he politely thanked the person that had found the wanderer, and focused on the man in front of him.

The stranger had striking silver hair, but it did not make him look old. If anything, it brought out his bright orange irises. His broad shoulders and strong arms were enough to make many a woman swoon, and all of that was topped off by a deep, gravelly, rough voice.

“Me and my crew encountered a storm on our journey across the sea, Your Majesty. Our fleet has been destroyed and I have lost half my men. We should like to stay here to regain strength,” the stranger told him. 

“Of course, we will welcome you amongst our own. A feast shall be held tonight to celebrate your arrival. And please, there’s no need to be formal,” Jaskier smiled. “I am King Julian Pankratz, but you can call me Jaskier.” He made sure to send a cheeky wink to the stoic traveller. 

“Geralt of Rivia,” the stranger grunted in return, seemingly not at all affected by the blatant flirting.

While Jaskier really wanted to stop and talk with this Geralt guy for a little bit longer, there were countless projects that he needed to overlook, so he excused himself politely, making sure to mention he was looking forward to the dinner tonight, and went on his way. He also sent a messenger back to the palace to inform the cooks of the feast that needed preparing. 

His city was nothing much yet. The city walls were still under construction, they were still digging out the harbour and while his people had roofs over their heads, the amount of full-fledged houses was depressingly low. Even he himself, the king, was dressed in worker’s clothes. All of this, and yet Geralt had not shown even a glimpse of concern at arriving in a city like this. It did worry Jaskier, though. They were surrounded by enough peoples willing to start a war to get his land back. 

Jaskier had travelled too. He had to flee from his homeland because his brother seized power in his city. He had been married. His husband had been lost to the wrath of Jaskier’s brother, killed savagely and in affront to the gods. His phantom had warned Jaskier of the coming danger and had urged him to flee the country. His heart was still weeping. Building the city kept him from thinking too much about it, though. He also found some solace in the fact that he could save so many of his people in his desperate flight. He even managed to convince his younger sister Ciri to come with him. 

When they came here, his people had a long and rough journey behind them. All of them were overjoyed at the sight of habitable land, with enough room for fields and pastures, and even Jaskier found himself dreaming about a future here. After a few days of resting they were visited by a local king, who seemed to own the land they were on. After setting eyes on Jaskier Amor’s metaphorical arrow could be seen striking his chest, and the first words out of his mouth were an introduction and a proposal. 

Still heartbroken, Jaskier refused him, and that rubbed the king the wrong way. Jaskier was given the hide of a cow, and he could have as many land as he could span with the hide, and his people would have to live on that stretch of land. Any of them he could not fit would then belong to the king. In a stroke of genius, he had the hide cut into narrow strips that he then bound together. When the king came again the next day, Jaskier let the strips unroll and was able to span enough land for a city. The king grudgingly permitted him to stay, impressed by the ingenuity but annoyed by the smugness, and warned Jaskier of the other kings and leaders in the vicinity.

And so he started building his city, even if he was woefully underprepared for all the troubles that would bring with it. He hoped this wanderer would be able to take his mind off everything going on.

––

Evening came soon enough, and Jaskier found himself sitting next to the stranger at the feast. He had heard copious amounts of gossip during the day. People seemed to recognize Geralt, but weren’t exactly sure where they had seen him. Numerous stories were brought up, some forgotten, others still fresh in mind. No one had a definitive answer at the end of the day.

The feast looked delicious, it was the first time the cooks had an excuse to go all-out, after all. As Jaskier ate, he found his eyes drifting back to Geralt time and time again. His guest hadn’t spoken a word since sitting down, so he decided he was going to try to coax some words out of his guest. Geralt’s crewmates seemed to be having fun talking to Jaskier’s court, so he thought himself permitted to focus on Geralt. 

“I love the way you just sit in the corner and brood,” Jaskier said, attempting to lift the scowl off his guest’s face. His remark was unfortunately not met with the desired reaction, as Geralt only tilted his face away from Jaskier and grunted.

“You know, stranger, I thought sitting next to you would be more exciting and filled with adventurous stories.” Geralt grunted dismissively again, and Jaskier was already preparing himself to talk the entirety of the remaining dinner.

To Jaskier’s surprise, Geralt actually began to talk.

“My story is long and complicated, king Alaemon. If I were to tell you now, the stars would sooner leave for sleep than we would.”

“Humour me, then.”

And so Geralt began to talk of the fall of his own city, the enemy’s ruse, the great battles inside the walls, the anger he felt and the help he got from the gods. He retold the flight from his city, desperate and filled with fear, how he lost his wife and how she spoke to him. He described the monsters he came across on the way to Jaskier’s land. He spoke of his destiny to found a new city, one that would be so great, people would know it for centuries past. 

And the whole time Geralt spoke, Jaskier found himself hanging on the stranger’s lips, and he felt his heart fill with love, and he felt himself be stricken with a dozen of Love’s arrows. He allowed himself to wish, just for now, that he could lay between the strong arms of the man next to him, and that these words now uttered could be whispered into his mouth.

Geralt had not been lying when he said it was a long story, when he finally arrived at the present, many of Jaskier’s court and Geralt’s mates had already excused themselves for the night. Only Geralt and Jaskier remained. 

“And so I arrived here,” Geralt finished, voice hard, and as Jaskier looked into his eyes, he could see a sadness and a softness that had not reached his voice.

“I’m sorry for your losses.”

“Hmm. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I would like to go to my chambers.”

“Yes, of course! Some of the maidens should still be up, they can take you to them. I should get my beauty sleep too,” Jaskier said, and he quickly stood up from his seat. He left Geralt behind with a small gesture of bye and sought out his bed. But as much as he tossed and turned, Somnus would not take him. 

These feelings were not what he needed right now, but his heart had run off. He could only pray his mind stayed with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The king Jaskier mentions in his backstory is King Yarbas in the original story. He does the exact same thing, but only proposes to Dido after her solution is revealed. Before that he wants to enslave her people :// 
> 
> "King Alaemon": Alaemon is a genus of the lark, the name is derived from the Greek alemon, meaning "wanderer". Elissa (Dido's alternate name) is said to mean "wanderer" in Phoenician, and I love Geralt calling Jaskier 'lark' so this was the perfect middle ground.
> 
> Somnus is the Roman god of sleep, equivalent to the more well-known Greek Hypnos.


	2. Take My Hand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not too happy with this chapter, the writing style is very different from the first and the pacing is all over the place. I was trying really hard to stay with the original story in the first chapter, while I'm doing my own interpretation of it in this chapter. But at least I got it out!

Jaskier had fallen in love, and hard. 

He realized it the night after Geralt had told his story. He had not been able to sleep at all, kept thinking of the way Geralt had recounted his travels, of the way his words resounded through the big dining room, of the way he looked when he told Jaskier all that had happened. All night, he tossed and turned like a lovestruck teenager.

When Aurora finally showed her face, and Jaskier had made sure there was no sleep he could get anymore, he slipped out of bed and went to Ciri’s room to confess his predicament.

Arriving in Ciri’s chambers, the first thing he did was throw himself as dramatically as he could onto her bed. She had not yet woken up, but Jaskier’s weight on her sleeping form and some whining made quick work of that.

“Why do you have to be up so early?” Ciri groaned groggily, struggling under his weight. At least she’d had a decent night’s sleep, Jaskier thought.

“Ciri, sweet sister, I have not been able to sleep at all!” Jaskier lamented. He heard Ciri groan at his theatrics, which only spurred him on further. “My thoughts were plagued by this extraordinary man that revealed his life to me. How brave, how interesting, how impressive has his story been! He has to be descended from the gods!”

“Are you done now?” Ciri asked, clearly fed up with her older brother’s behaviour.

“Well, I came here because I’m actually very worried,” Jaskier admitted.

“You fell in love, didn’t you?”

“I did! But I feel guilty about it, my husband died so recently, and after his death I vowed not to take another. I swore it to Jupiter, keeper of oaths. I’m also scared, what if he abandons me? What will happen if I fall even harder than I already have? He’s just a stranger on my land, why do I feel the way I do?” 

As Jaskier poured his heart out to his sister, he felt tears well up behind his eyes. 

“I don’t think your late husband would object to you being happy. So many men have asked for your hand in marriage, and none of them have made your heart feel like this. Are you going to resist a love you actually like? Besides, think of the neighbouring lands! It won’t hurt to have a strong man like him in our favour,” Ciri explained, and Jaskier realized she was right. He couldn’t let his past love stand in the way of a new one.

“But what should I do about the oaths?” 

“Ask the oath-keeper for forgiveness and absolution, I’m sure he will understand.”

And so Jaskier went to Jove’s temple to pray and pray for the vow to be forgiven. He fulfilled countless rituals, tried to divine the god’s intentions and talked to the priests to determine what the best course of action was. He was there all day, refusing all interaction out of the temple. Ciri had taken over his duties for the day being.

At night, he let himself indulge in Geralt’s stories again, and he felt himself growing more feverish by the second. The need to touch the man became stronger with every passing second, and Jaskier, unable to bear the desire, let himself lay a hand on Geralt’s arm.

Jaskier felt the muscles under his fingers tense and relax as Geralt told about his journey, and stared into the handsome face of the man in front of him, completely captivated by his beauty. The words that spilled out of the pretty mouth didn’t even register with Jaskier.

\--

As time went on, Jaskier found himself overwhelmed by his feelings more often and in more inconvenient locations. 

He had decided to give Geralt a tour of the finished parts of the city, but stuttered while talking and even stopped in the middle of his sentences due to his frazzled mind. Geralt had no outward reaction to this, but Jaskier felt more stupid for allowing himself to fall in love every time he faltered. 

He neglected his duties as a leader, instead spending his time dreaming and roaming the city like a wounded deer. He only grew more enamoured when Geralt picked up the slack. He could only stare in admiration as he helped the people build their city. 

Then, a hunt was organized by Ciri, in honour of Diana the huntress. Ciri had insisted Geralt and his mates participate too, and had no trouble convincing them. They had been in the city for so long they felt like they belonged among the hunt, some of the men had even taken a spouse already.

Jaskier had a bad feeling he just couldn’t shake about the hunt, an anxiety deep in his gut, like a harpy had stuck its sharp talons in his stomach and was slowly but unyieldingly turning it around. Ciri was able to soothe his mind, so he went, even though his mind and gut screamed at him to not go.

The hunt started good, the hounds took scent immediately and the people were having fun. As they were stalking their second deer, the sky darkened. Black clouds blanketed the sun and the air became heavy and hot. Suddenly, the heavens lit up, and all the remaining peace amongst the participants had evaporated as soon as Jupiter hit his shield. 

The rain started coming down after the second flash, torrential and unrelenting. Jaskier could only thank the gods he got out of the commotion in time, mostly because he heard the distinctive crunch of a tree falling down behind him. He didn’t need to run far before he found a clearing with a cave, which was exactly what he needed.

When Jupiter slammed his sword on his shield for the third time, Jaskier came stumbling into the cave. He was soaked through – the rain had become even heavier – and was already starting to feel cold. 

After standing in the opening for a while, looking out into the forest and surveying the area, he turned around to see if he shared the grotto. He noticed Geralt sitting down against one of the jagged walls and silently sat down next to him, making sure he didn’t get the other man wet.

Sitting next to him, Jaskier suddenly felt overcome by the feelings he had for the traveller. Geralt had been doing all he could to help Jaskier out, helping him build a home, telling the story that so clearly hurt to speak about time and time again. Geralt had been trying to please him.

“Geralt, can I ask you a question?” Jaskier asked quietly, not quite daring to break the silence that had settled between them. The storm raged on outside of their safe haven.

Geralt only grunted in response, which Jaskier interpreted as a go-ahead.

“How do you feel about me? I mean, you’ve been here for a while now, and all I’ve made you do is talk about yourself. Not that I dislike hearing you talk about your adventures, not at all, although you probably reached that conclusion by yourself since I ask you to recount your stories almost every night, but what I’m trying to say is, we never really had an actual conversation, and I would like that to change,” Jaskier finished, a bit ashamed of his rambling. He looked at Geralt, who was regarding him with a look of amusement.

“You’re annoying.”

Jaskier gasped and clutched his hand against his chest, pretending to be offended. “How can you say that to me, an almighty king domineering hundreds of miles of land, gifted to me due to my own genius?” Geralt rolled his eyes and looked away, but Jaskier swore he could see a faint smile gracing the man’s lips. 

“Still annoying.”

“You’re just saying that because you can’t get the word ‘adorable’ over your lips.”

“Maybe so,” Geralt said.

“Geralt of Rivia, are you admitting you actually like me? I can’t believe I live to see the day,” Jaskier said quasi-incredulous. His statement was followed by an involuntary shiver, and he suddenly realized he was still wearing his drenched clothes.

Geralt looked at him for a few seconds, then fully turned to Jaskier.

“You’re going to get sick if you keep wearing those clothes. Take them off,” Geralt said matter-of-factly, no explicit emotions showing on his face. 

He could only comply, so he stood up to get the clothes off him. He felt his face heating up more with every piece of clothing he took off. He kept his undergarments on. A quick glance toward Geralt told him the man still looked as stoic as he did when he asked Jaskier to undress.

“Good. Now come here,” Geralt ordered. Jaskier moved to sit beside Geralt again, but was halted in his motions when Geralt pulled him between his legs instead. Taken aback, Jaskier quickly sat down where Geralt had guided him. Strong arms encircled his body and pulled him closer.

The pair sat like that for a long time, both looking out the opening of the cave into the weather that only seemed to be getting worse. Jaskier was thankful Geralt had pulled him against his chest, he was slowly warming up again. He prayed Geralt couldn’t feel his heartbeat.

“I have to tell you something,” Jaskier blurted out. The only answer he got from Geralt was a quiet hum. “I’m in love with you. You don’t have to respond, or reciprocate, I just wanted to tell you.”

He felt Geralt’s grip on him tighten slightly, and squeezed his eyes shut. He wasn’t quite ready for a rejection yet, but he felt it was time to confess before his feelings ran any further away.

He felt Geralt speak more than he heard it, a soft breath across his neck and a rumble in the chest pressed against his back. “I’ve been in love with you since I came here.”

Jaskier turned his face slightly to better talk to Geralt. “You’re serious?”

“I am,” Geralt replied, mirroring Jaskier’s movements. Their breaths mingled in the small space that remained between their lips.

“Would you want to take me as your own?” Barely a whisper, trying not to stir the air between them.

“There is nothing I would want more.”

“Then take me, kiss me, wed me. And when the sea clears again, take me with you to the land you were promised.”

“I will, my lark, I will.”

Then the distance was gone, mouths crashed together and Jaskier felt warmer than any clothes could have made him. 

They didn’t notice the sunbeams breaking through the rain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aurora is the goddess of daybreak
> 
> "Jupiter hit his shield"/"Jupiter slammed his sword on his shield": Roman soldiers carried a curved rectangular shield with them on the battlefield. In war, psychological warfare is a big part of the war. The Romans stood on the battlefield in rows, with their shields raised, and they all struck their swords against their shields at the same time, with thousands and thousands of soldiers. This made a lot of noise (A LOT, our teacher demonstrated and we all pretty much jumped 2 feet into the air), which scared the enemy. Jupiter doing this explains the thunder
> 
> Dido (Jaskier) is portrayed a lot more frazzled and out of it in the original story, because 'the fire of love burns so brightly in her' or something. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
